K
Kennick
Guest
It happened to me in 1995, i.e. some time before Ken and I met and just a bit before I came out. I was spending my holidays on Naxos (another of the approx. 2000 islands of Greece), Cyclades. I had booked a room in a lovely pension behind the medieval castle built by the Franconian rulers that time. It was completely white inside, a big bed and just some smaller furnitures in there, but with a huge terrace on top of the pension that I regularly used to tan and to relax (the other guests seem to think that some unknown to me contagious disease ruled over the terrace and didn't set a foot on it. Lucky me!). On one of my first days I dropped my book from the deck chair I was laying on and bent over to pick it up. Then I saw that somebody was sitting behind the window in the building behind my pension. I didn't see his face then, only his legs, but deduced from their muscularity that it must be a fit man. Nonetheless I continued to read and almost forgot about the incident. The early evening came, I retroceded into my room to get prepared for my evening stroll and threw a glance out of my window only to see the same legs again sitting in a chair.
I took my time to look at them and smiled. What a nice sight. The moment I thought that the man stood up, facing the other direction and walked across the room. He was wearing only a pair of tight fitting boxers and had a terrific build (like a swimmer, not too many muscles, yet enough to drool for!) from behind. My smile got broader, but he disappeared into what appeared to be a bath room. Well, bad luck I thought and got myself ready to get out.
Next morning first thing I did was to peek out of my window (strangely enough the only one at this back side of my pension) and was struck by the view. The same man, this time his front standing there with closed eyes and enjoying the morning sun. His pecs and his six-pack were covered with a dense shade of fur, whereas the shoulders and the back were completely free of body hair. He was cleanly shaven and had a cup of coffee on the window sill. I had an instant hard on, kicking and throbbing, he appeared to be Greek, had very refined lines of face, a very elegant perplexion and his shoulders, pecs and six-pack were beaming at me. With three strokes I exploded into my hands that couldn't hold back the sperms and they dripped onto the wooden floor. He turned around and walked again to the bath room, but this time he was naked. What a bum! Firm, small and barely moving, as if it was carved of marvel! Needless to say that I came a second, aching time.
All the day long I was haunted by the idea of him at the window, I couldn't concentrate on anything and caught myself a nice sunburn, but I almost didn't feel it out of inner tension. In the evening I sat again on the terrace (I didn't dare to sit at my window which was only 3 meters away from his just separated by the narrow lane between my pension and his house/pension, not yet!) and was struck again. He was standing there again, apparently waiting to get dry after a shower, but he was completely nude (from the terrace one floor higher I had a different view point! how nice!). Under a tight bush of dark, wiry pubic hair I saw a seemingly fat, relaxed cock dangling between his legs, when he reached for his pubic area to give it a small rub and then turned away from the window. I stayed for an hour on the terrace to get rid of my hard on and hoping to see him again. Bad luck for me.
In the night I woke up with an idea. I opened my window, drew back the white linen curtain that shielded my window (the only one on this side) from his view and gave him the sense of security, and put a coffee-mug on the window sill.
It cost me an hour or so to fall asleep, but I managed to do so. I jumped out of bed in the morning, because of a shrill whistle and stood in front of my window. Only then I realised that I was nude and with my usual good morning hard-on facing him. He stood there and looked back at me. I froze and only managed to crack a weak smile. His left eyebrow rose, his glance wandered down my shoulders, pecs, six-pack and landed on my now kicking cock, his mouth twitched and formed a smile. His hand reached for his left pecs and left nipple and he gently started to rub it. I had to cling to the window sill in order not to faint, but somehow felt my right hand moving to my shaft that was pulsing. He grinned and said with a dark, friendly voice: Kaliméra. I mumbled back kaliméra as well and stared at his now swelling and kicking cock and continued to move my hand up and down. He followed my movements with growing interest and continued to rub his pecs and nipples, that must have been rock hard at this moment. Then he reached for his now fully erect cock and shoved back the foreskin and showed me his blossomed blood-bursting gland. I started oozing some pre
, but had regained now my conscience and mimic, smiled even broader and said told him my name. Tassos he answered back and started hard strokes on his cock that almost reached his navel. Within 5 more strikes I burst and he just needed 1 or 2 more. We both panted and grinned at each other.
I said that I would meet him in half an hour at a certain café down by the harbour front. He nodded yes. The time almost didn't pass for me, until he
turned around the corner and entered the small place in front of the café. His grip of hands was firm and warm, we sat, ordered a frapppé and smiled. Then I started to talk and told him about the window. He continued to smile and said that he was wondering who lived behind that single window and why the architect would have set a window in that particular back front of the house -Tassos studied architecture in Thessaloniki- and was a bit hesitant to sit there, but then he saw no movement for two days and decided that the window was "safe". He had wondered about the coffee-mug in the morning and was almost angry to have been betrayed in his thinking of a safe window and had felt peeked at. I admitted to have noticed him before and mumbled something about my other explosions, then he reached over the table, put his hand on mine and said: "Let's get back, I will be here for three more days, before I return to Thessaloniki. I have someone to introduce you."
I took my time to look at them and smiled. What a nice sight. The moment I thought that the man stood up, facing the other direction and walked across the room. He was wearing only a pair of tight fitting boxers and had a terrific build (like a swimmer, not too many muscles, yet enough to drool for!) from behind. My smile got broader, but he disappeared into what appeared to be a bath room. Well, bad luck I thought and got myself ready to get out.
Next morning first thing I did was to peek out of my window (strangely enough the only one at this back side of my pension) and was struck by the view. The same man, this time his front standing there with closed eyes and enjoying the morning sun. His pecs and his six-pack were covered with a dense shade of fur, whereas the shoulders and the back were completely free of body hair. He was cleanly shaven and had a cup of coffee on the window sill. I had an instant hard on, kicking and throbbing, he appeared to be Greek, had very refined lines of face, a very elegant perplexion and his shoulders, pecs and six-pack were beaming at me. With three strokes I exploded into my hands that couldn't hold back the sperms and they dripped onto the wooden floor. He turned around and walked again to the bath room, but this time he was naked. What a bum! Firm, small and barely moving, as if it was carved of marvel! Needless to say that I came a second, aching time.
All the day long I was haunted by the idea of him at the window, I couldn't concentrate on anything and caught myself a nice sunburn, but I almost didn't feel it out of inner tension. In the evening I sat again on the terrace (I didn't dare to sit at my window which was only 3 meters away from his just separated by the narrow lane between my pension and his house/pension, not yet!) and was struck again. He was standing there again, apparently waiting to get dry after a shower, but he was completely nude (from the terrace one floor higher I had a different view point! how nice!). Under a tight bush of dark, wiry pubic hair I saw a seemingly fat, relaxed cock dangling between his legs, when he reached for his pubic area to give it a small rub and then turned away from the window. I stayed for an hour on the terrace to get rid of my hard on and hoping to see him again. Bad luck for me.
In the night I woke up with an idea. I opened my window, drew back the white linen curtain that shielded my window (the only one on this side) from his view and gave him the sense of security, and put a coffee-mug on the window sill.
It cost me an hour or so to fall asleep, but I managed to do so. I jumped out of bed in the morning, because of a shrill whistle and stood in front of my window. Only then I realised that I was nude and with my usual good morning hard-on facing him. He stood there and looked back at me. I froze and only managed to crack a weak smile. His left eyebrow rose, his glance wandered down my shoulders, pecs, six-pack and landed on my now kicking cock, his mouth twitched and formed a smile. His hand reached for his left pecs and left nipple and he gently started to rub it. I had to cling to the window sill in order not to faint, but somehow felt my right hand moving to my shaft that was pulsing. He grinned and said with a dark, friendly voice: Kaliméra. I mumbled back kaliméra as well and stared at his now swelling and kicking cock and continued to move my hand up and down. He followed my movements with growing interest and continued to rub his pecs and nipples, that must have been rock hard at this moment. Then he reached for his now fully erect cock and shoved back the foreskin and showed me his blossomed blood-bursting gland. I started oozing some pre
, but had regained now my conscience and mimic, smiled even broader and said told him my name. Tassos he answered back and started hard strokes on his cock that almost reached his navel. Within 5 more strikes I burst and he just needed 1 or 2 more. We both panted and grinned at each other. I said that I would meet him in half an hour at a certain café down by the harbour front. He nodded yes. The time almost didn't pass for me, until he
turned around the corner and entered the small place in front of the café. His grip of hands was firm and warm, we sat, ordered a frapppé and smiled. Then I started to talk and told him about the window. He continued to smile and said that he was wondering who lived behind that single window and why the architect would have set a window in that particular back front of the house -Tassos studied architecture in Thessaloniki- and was a bit hesitant to sit there, but then he saw no movement for two days and decided that the window was "safe". He had wondered about the coffee-mug in the morning and was almost angry to have been betrayed in his thinking of a safe window and had felt peeked at. I admitted to have noticed him before and mumbled something about my other explosions, then he reached over the table, put his hand on mine and said: "Let's get back, I will be here for three more days, before I return to Thessaloniki. I have someone to introduce you."
